I Will Always Be Ready
by LadyLibertyofAmerica
Summary: I don't quiet no what this is. It started as a really depressing idea for a GerIta story, one involving a mad Germany losing his anger and hitting Italy, and you can still see some qualities of that, but in the end I think it turned out pretty well. I apologize for all mistakes.


"Italia!" I heard someone shout.

Turning to look over my shoulder I saw that Ludwig was approaching. His hair wasn't geled back and his eyes sparkled as he ran toward me. He was only wearing a pair of black pants and a blcak button up, apperently when he had run after me he hadn't even bothered to put on shoes.

I turned away.

Something about it had struck me, a blonde running towards me in all black, but I couldn't remember why it did.

I looked back out over the small lake that resided on our now shared property. It sparkled a clean, light blue, much like Germany's eyes, but even then it darkend as you looked deeper into it, and it reminded me of how his eyes had looked not only three hours ago.

"Italia, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to, I just.. I just..." he stated once he got close enough.

I threw a rock out across the water, but it just sank.

Settling my arms around my legs, I sighed, "I know, but it would still be nice."

"Italia, you know I can't. My boss wouldn't allow it. I will one day, but not right now." he said, joining me.

"Have you ever thought that maybe your boss is wrong, maybe things were better the way they were before?" I asked, still not looking at him, "I did, a long time ago. I decided that the man who was ruling my country didn't know what he was doing, so I spread rumors, started a Revolution. Big Brother France and America have done similar things."

"I know, but even the people that think he makes the wrong choices wouldn't dare to do anything. They are to afraid." he said, and I could feel his eyes on me.

"That's what a Revolution is, _mio amico. _It is people that go up against all odds so that they no longer have to live in fear." I said, finally looking at him.

He turned from me, now looking up at the sky, but his hand had inched towards mine.

Surprising even myself, I allowed him to take my hand into his own.

"It does not matter. Russia will arrive before long, my country will be liberated of his tyrannical reign, but it will still be a long time before we can tell." he says, looking at me carefully, at the skin he thinks is so fragile, but yet has probably known more heartbreak than his ever will.

Though it does not seem so, I have lived much longer than he has. I have been on my own much longer than he has. I have lived without someone to love and care for me, as I do the same, much longer than he has.

But I do not dwell on it, I never dwell on it, because if I did I would not be who I am. I would be like Mr. Switzerland. He was alone for so long, and even the friends he had took advantage of him, that he is unwilling to interact, unable to simply trust someone. He is bitter and cold because he dwells on his past, he does not trust because he has never been trusted or loved.

So it aggrivates me when Germany looks at me like that, makes me mad that he does not see that nothing like this can ever affect me. But then I realize it is because he does not see what has happened, he is blind to the horrors of the world, was for so long, he does not know what has transpirred before he walked into my life.

"I know, it may not ever happen, but I will always feel the same, not matter what others think. But when it happens, I want you to announce to the world. When it happens, know that you don't have to live in fear, don't have to hide from what you are. Until you can do that, I will gladly give you what I can, but I will never give you all of me. I cannot return myself wholely is cannot do the same." I say as I stand, "Just know that whatever happens I do it because I don't want to live in fear, am tired of living in fear. But no matter what happens I will always love you."

That would be one of the last times we saw each other for fifty years.

Years later when I stand in the an empty capple, all I can think of is that for so long I thought it was Ludwig that had issues with uus, but really I did to.

It went against everything that I literally emcompassed, both of my older brothers would scorn the thought of loving a man, but I realized that I did not care, I would never care, because to care what others thought was to live in fear.

Looking at the vauted ceilings, the crisp white columns, the golden altar, the roses that were strrung across the alcoves, and the rows of pews, that mere minutes ago had been filled, I realized something that I hadn't in almost seventy years.

I had told him that I would not be able to give myself to him competely until he did the same, but I had been the one holding back, I was the one to scared to hide in the shadows. He had been willing to hide, I would only take what was impossible for him to give, by asking him not to hide in that time, had he done it, I would've have been asking that he kill himself.

I told myself when he told me that he was willing, that I was to. But I hadn't been, neither of us ever really will be, but we love each other, and that is all that matters, even if we only get to experince that for mere hours, it would be worth everything that we have gone through.

It would not have mattered now if I decided that I wasn't ready, for if I did I would be doing the one thing that I would never do: killing the man I love so dearly. If I told him not that I was not ready, I would never have the chance to be ready.

I decided that I was ready, I would give myself in full to him, even if he could not retun it, even if we were scorned by those we would live with for the rest of our lives.

"Are you ready?" avoice said behind me.

Looking over my shoulder I was reminded of that day I told him so. His hair was down, he was dressed in a black tux, and he had long since taken off his uncomfortable shoes. His eyes now looked as crystal clear as the lake, I could see everything about them: the good, the bad, the saddness, and the happiness.

Nodding, I stood, and smiled at him. My own white tux shifting as I moved to take his arm, "I will always be ready."

I looked at his face and decided that I had never spoken a more true statement.

He was ready for me, and I for him.

He had his Italia, his Feliciano, and I had my Holy Rome, my Germany, my Ludwig.


End file.
